Her Christmas Wish
“Boston,” he replies.
“This is my house, but it’s different. What’s that?” I ask pointing to a flat black square mounted to the wall opposite the bed.
“It’s a TV. Have you never seen a TV before?”
“No,” I admit.
“When were you born?” he suddenly asks.
“A lady never reveals her age,” I tell him.
“Yeah. I am going to need to know that,” he says chuckling.
“1901,” I respond.
“Holy shit. Do you know what year it is now?”
“I would assume 1919.”
“It’s 2019,” he says emphasizing the two.
“What?” I shout, getting out of his bed. “It can’t be. When I went to bed a little while ago, it was December 23rd, 1919.”
“It’s December 23rd, 2019.”
“How is that possible?” I murmur.
“I have no idea.”
“Oh my God!” I exclaim. “My list,” I say walking out of the room and back up the stairs to my room. I know this house like the back of my hand.
“What list?” he asks following close behind me.
“I wished for you,” I tell him locating my discarded nightgown. I fish around in the pocket until I locate the piece of paper and then toss the gown again. He’s been inside of me. I think propriety is gone at this point.
“You wished for me?”
“Yes. My Christmas Wish List,” I say unfolding the list. “Look,” I say handing him the paper. He reads the list out loud.
“Number one, loves me for me, not because he owes my father something. Number two, never loved another before me. Number three, loves Christmas as much as I do. Number four, loves me at first sight. Number five, must be the man that I dream about every night. You think this brought you to me?”
“It has to be the reason,” I reply.
“You really believe this list let you travel through time to me?”
“I think the list had something to do with it, but God, the Universe, or something big like that did it.”
“Do you think it will send you back?” he asks. He looks upset or sad and I don’t like that look on his face.
“I don’t want to go back. Do you want me to go back?” I ask, tears already welling in my eyes.
“Hell no,” he says coming closer to me.
“Oh, good. We just found each other. I am not ready to say goodbye.”
“We are never saying goodbye, Hannah. For twelve long years, I have dreamed of you. Now that you are here, flesh and blood, I am never letting you go.
“What if I have to go back? What happens then?” He moves closer to me.
“We go on as we have done. Being content with dreams, but I know for sure that we are one pussy for life and one cock for life.”
“Are you saying that you have never been with anyone else?”
“Nope. I am all yours too,” he says grinning.
“I can live with that.”
“As for your list, I am all but one of those things.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t really want to tell you this, but I hate Christmas.”
“How can you hate Christmas? It’s such a magical time of year,” I tell him.
“I am beginning to see that. Can you live with that fact?”
“Which fact?”
“Me hating Christmas,” he says matter of factly.
“Four out of five ain’t bad,” I tell him. “Besides, I have a feeling I can get you to fall in love with Christmas.”
“If anybody can, it’s going to be you.”
“Do you have a dog?” I ask.
“I do. His name is Brutus.”
“Can I meet him?”
“In the morning, my love. I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to.”
“My love?” I ask.
“Of course, I love you. Not only do I feel like I’ve known you forever, but I do believe that my love effectively covers numbers one through four of your wish list,” he says before lifting me over his shoulder.
“It does. I love you too,” I tell his back. I think it would have been better face to face, but that is alright too.
“I am most certain that is the case. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” he says before he lightly smacks my bottom, which sends little ripples of anticipation through my pussy. Then he takes off for his room.
Love is a strange and powerful thing. It brought me through time to the one man who was meant for me. How can that ever be a bad thing?
Chapter 4
Brett
Hannah. My Hannah. My love, I chant inwardly as I head for my room. Once there, I again toss this beautiful woman on my bed. Our bed, if I have my way. I am more than captivated by her. Her light brown blondish hair is definitely not bottled. She is pale, porcelain perfection. Her lightly freckled face makes her look sweet and innocent, however, if my dreams are any indication, she is anything but. Her curves call out to me. I want to touch her everywhere all at once. I settle my attention on her ass. Under my palm, it jiggled when I playfully slapped her. Her ass is a work of art. I want to sink my teeth into her. Now that I know what the fuck is going on, I will treasure every motherfucking second I have with her. 1919 can’t have her back, she’s mine, but realistically, I can’t even think about what I’ll do if she is taken from me. If she’s taken back to her own time, I won’t be able to compete with that. I waste no time getting back between her thighs, my new home. I kiss her before trailing wet, open mouth kisses down her torso. When I reach her pussy, I lick her from her clit to her tiny little love hole. I hear her gasp from above me. She tries to push me away, but I don’t let her. I grip her hips keep her from squirming away from me.